


You, Me, and Somebody Else

by rosesisupposes



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Begging, Blow Jobs, Bottom!Shane, Dom/sub, Don't Try This At Home, Dubious Consent Due To Identity Issues, M/M, Minimal Prep, My First Work in This Fandom, No Aftercare, Or Is It?, Porn, Porn with Eventual Feelings, Possession, RPF, Rimming, Smut but it gets fluffy, Spit As Lube, Surprise! It's Your Best Friend Again, This was going to be a oneshot but uh, Title from a Chromeo Song, Top!Ricky, Top!Ryan, Workplace Sex, now it will be longer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2020-11-28 20:20:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20972465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosesisupposes/pseuds/rosesisupposes
Summary: Shane was incredibly entertained by Ricky Goldsworth. He was a great character, great bit, great joke. Right until he wasn't.[[Explicit, do not read if under 18]]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **[[Do Not Read If Under 18]]**
> 
> I gave in to the Ricky Goldsworth thirst. First fic in the BFU fandom.
> 
> (title's a lyric from _Count Me Out_ by Chromeo)

It's the Friday after they posted the Room 1046 video, and it's one of the rare occasions when Shane and Ryan get drinks together after work. This time, Shane's the host, and he reclines on the couch he'd bought specially to accommodate his long frame as Ryan sits across the living room in a plush chair.

"No, I'm telling you, man, you can _ definitely _say 'rustles my feathers.' That's a thing!" Ryan insists. He hasn't had many beers, but it's enough that his cheeks are flushed and glowing as he gestures for emphasis.

Shane guffaws. "Nahh, you're just covering for your misspeak."

"Am not."

"Are too."

Ryan wheezes, shaking his head. "Swear to god, I've heard other people say it."

Shane rolls his eyes and lets it drop. "Did you see the comments today? I don't think anyone noticed that or anything about the actual case."

"What do you mean?"

"All anyone can talk about is ya boi Ricky."

Ryan shrugs. "What can I say, they clearly recognize a good bit when they see it."

"Some bit!" Shane drawls, propping his legs up on the side of the couch. "You were getting _ into _it. Like, I almost believed you were tough there for a second."

Ryan looks offended. "I can be tough!"

"Oh, yeah, 'Hi I'm Ryan Steven Bergara and I screamed bloody murder because of a flashlight!'"

“Hey, that is rational fear of actual supernatural beings that might kill me!”

“Actual supernatural, riiiiighhttt,” Shane drawls with familiar derision, fingers miming lazy quotes in the air. “Hey, does Ricky Goldsworth also fear the wind?” he asks, grinning as he turns to face his friend. “Does good ol Rick bring a vial of holy water with him when he’s intimidating mayors in small towns? Does Mr. Goldsworth get scared of the dark?”

In a second, Ryan’s face slips from a familiar eyeroll to direct eye contact, and he snaps, “Watch it, beanpole.” His voice is low and direct, with a clipped precision that brooks no argument.

Shane merely chuckles at the change in behavior. "That's commitment to the bit, I'll give you that. I respect it."

"Respect what?" Ryan asks, face back in a bemused grin, intense focus gone.

Shane shakes his head. "See? Commitment. I liked it, to be honest, it really adds that chaotic vibe that I've been trying to bring this whole time. Glad to see you're finally matching it."

"You're definitely chaotic. Chaotic neutral, mostly. And then you do that stupid shit like lie on pentagrams and_ challenge demons to possess you." _

"It's chaotic good! I'm trying to prove you right!" Shane grins, rotating to sit normally with his feet flat on the floor.

"As much as I would like to have you admit that the supernatural is very real and very dangerous, I'd rather not have to a demon's host body as my co-host," Ryan replies. He attempts to sound annoyed, but the argument is too familiar to hide his slightly-fond grin.

Shane gives himself little devil horns with his fingers. "Ah yes, 'tis I, the dreaded Demon Madej! The DeMadej! I'm here to spin this strangely tall man's head in circles and insult your mother!"

"Can I liveblog your exorcism if you get possessed?" Ryan asks in between wheezes.

"Only if Father Thomas does it, and you tell him just how many times you've ignored his advice to not engage," Shane replies with a falsely-sweet smile. 

"Don't you dare tell him!"

"Don't tell me what I can't do!" Shane says, grinning manically now. "Only Goldsworth can do that, he's the only tough one!"

Shane's barely registered that Ryan's laughter has stopped when the shorter man comes to stand in front of him, up off his chair and across the room in a single movement. Despite their normal height difference, Ryan is standing while Shane remains seated and manages to tower over him. One hand grips the front of his shirt.

"I mean it, Long Legs," Ryan snaps. His eyes are dark and cold, all traces of smile gone from his face. "Don't push me again. You won't like what I'll have to do next."

Shane is shocked despite himself. "I'm- I'm sorry. I'm done. I'll stop."

Ryan lets go of his shirt and steps back to his chair, sinking down. There's a faint glittering in his dark eyes still that sets Shane weirdly on edge. But, in his tried and true way, he deflects with a joke. "So, guess who has a perfect conclusion coming up for the Hot Daga!"

Ryan groans. "At least it's ending, thank fuck!"

Shane relaxes. There's the familiar smile. It's all just been a bit, and Ryan's been leaning in. Probably from the alcohol.

“So you're saying I should drag it out longer?" Shane teases. "I mean, if you insist. Only if you insist. I want you to have what you want!"

"Oh my god, no!" Ryan laughs. "Ugh, this is gonna be my weird death, instead of Don in a weird hotel room they'll just find me dead of boredom on set while you finish chapter 501 of this fucking story."

Shane just laughs. "Hey, maybe Don and whatshisface secretly loved it and they just went too far!"

"Too far? There was a dead body!"

"Yeah, and sometimes BDSM stuff like that isn't done right and people get hurt! I'm just saying, I was reading the comments today and some of them had a point!"

"Oh, and you know all about this?"

Shane waggles his eyebrows. "Wouldn't _ you _like to know."

"Yeah, I do want to know, that's why I'm asking!" Ryan's a bit redder now as he reaches the bottom of another beer bottle, but he doesn't sway, just laughs harder as he talks.

"I can't tell you, you're too delicate," Shane sniffs. "Now if you were really tough, then maybe I could. Maybe if you were more like Ricky-"

Ryan’s laughter cuts off mid-wheeze as that same inscrutably dangerous expression settles across his face. He's up on his feet again, getting in Shane's space, moving so quickly that Shane almost involuntarily edges back.

“I warned you twice, and you pushed me anyway. It’s time you learn your place.”

He pushes Shane down until he falls to his back on the couch, all while Shane is still processing the change in behavior. 

“Remember, Madej: you brought this on. And I will only stop if you beg me. You say you're acquainted with this? Good. Your safeword is ’Tinsley.’”

Shane nods automatically, reacting out of some instinctual impulse that he rarely feels. He doesn’t fully process the meaning of the words, not until Ryan (Ricky?) is tearing his shirt off without regard for the buttons. 

“Hey, watch it,” Shane interjects weakly, but then those dark, humorless eyes are boring into his and he finds his words escaping him.

One tan hand settles like a vise around his throat, leaving just barely enough space to breathe. The other starts to ghost lightly down Shane's newly-exposed chest. There's barely any contact until suddenly the sharp bite of nails sets a fire on his nipples and he gasps and chokes around the unforgiving pressure at his neck. The scratching stops as quickly as it begins and Ricky's hand trails lightly over, before mirroring the treatment on Shane's other side.

Shane wants to react, to tell Ryan to quit it, but those dark eyes are still boring into his and the sensations are too confusing and he's also not sure that asking won't lead to something even rougher.

He's also not sure that would be such a bad thing.

But all he can bring himself to do is attempt to suppress the breathy moan that threatens to escape as that trailing hand starts to scratch a fiery line down his torso, going lower and lower and Shane will _ not _ make noise, he will _ not _ embarrass himself, he will _ not... _

"Fuck!" he wheezes around Ricky's chokehold as the trailing finger turns into a rough squeeze over his jeans.

Ricky's lips stretch back into a predatory smile. "I knew you'd see it my way eventually. You said it yourself, didn't you? Only I can tell you what to do. And you want me to have what I want."

Despite his distraction, Shane looks up. "You were listening?"

The smile becomes even more menacing as the pressure on Shane's throat increases. "Oh, I'm always listening. Now it's your turn. Not another word until I tell you to speak or until you safeword out."

Shane gives a barely perceptible nod, the edges of his vision growing slightly dark as Ricky continues to cut off his air. It should scare him. It does scare him. And the fear runs in ripples down his spine and pools in his groin.

Ricky's free hand is roving, brushing lightly against cool skin and alternating scratches as it goes. Fingers find his nipple again and twist roughly as Shane fights to remain quiet, flushing under Ricky's dark, continuous stare.

Ricky's hand starts to drag down his chest again, this time without scratching, but creeping ever closer to his waistband. Shanes risks a glance down, away from the dark eyes, and sees his own pale chest crisscrossed with red scratch marks, the tan hand now working its way to his thigh, and the very visible bulge in his jeans that twitches as the hand gets a little too close.

_ Fuck, _ he says internally. 

Ricky's hand brushes lightly over the denim.

** _Fuck,_ ** he says to himself, louder.

In one movement that's almost inhumanly smooth, Ricky unbuttons his jeans and slips his hand inside to squeeze Shane's cock with precision, just below the head.

**_"FUCK!"_** Shane cries. It's only as he looks up into flinty eyes that he realizes he's said it aloud.

"What did I say?" Ricky asks, his voice icily soft.

Shane's eyes are wide and his breath is ragged as he meets the man's gaze. "I'm sorry, I'll-"

"Shut up," comes the quiet order. Shane goes silent, trying to keep even his choked breathing quiet. 

"You keep forgetting. Why is that?" Ricky asks. His gaze is calculating. "You may speak."

"I couldn't help myself," Shane admits in a whisper.

"Because of what I was doing to you?" comes the smirking question.

Shane can only nod.

Ricky's smile stretches out as sharp and dangerous as a razor blade. "You've been trying to obey. I can see that. You're just not broken in yet. So I'll give you a break, just this once. Tell me what you want, Madej. If you're lucky," he adds, squeezing Shane's cock tightly, "I might even let you have it."

The words stick in Shane's throat, even as Ricky’s hand eases the pressure there. He can feel the heat in his face and his chest and yes, certainly in his groin, set afire by the lazy hold that Ricky still has just below the head. Of course he knows what he wants, and he can tell Ricky does too.

"I-" he gasps out. "I want..." No, he can't say it. This is all too weird, right? If he doesn't say it, it won't have been real, he'll wake up tomorrow and this will have been a weird wet dream, as long as he doesn't admit what he wants in so many words.

"I'm waiting," Ricky says softly, interrupting the panicked flow of thoughts. "What's the fucking hold up?"

"I want-" Shane starts again, but now his gaze is stuck on the look in Ricky's eyes, cold and stony and promising unpleasantness. His mouth goes dry.

Ricky leans forward to whisper directly into Shane's ear. "Tell me what it is you want, or I decide for you."

_ "Yes," _ Shane whines. 

"What the fuck do you mean, yes?"

"That's- fuck, please, that's what I want. You decide," Shane gasps out. He lets himself thrust into Ricky's hand and hisses at the friction._ "Please." _

A grin stretches across Ricky's face that would look more at home on a hyena's snarling jaws or wolf's bared fangs. "You may regret this, Madej. But you asked for it."

He frees both his hands and roughly shoves Shane's pants down to his calves. He pushes his knees apart, long legs splayed out wide enough to leave enough space for Ricky in between them. Shane finds two fingers thrust roughly into his mouth. Knowing his role, Shane obediently sucks them, coating them in his saliva. Another finger is added, and a fourth, Ricky still smiling in that terrifying and intoxicating way as he draws them in and out, finger-fucking Shane's mouth. Finally, he withdraws, saliva dripping.

Shane is so tense he nearly cries out as the first wet finger probes his entrance. He forces himself to relax, taking deep breaths and focusing on the feel of Ricky's almost bruising grip on his thigh. The intrusion feels odd at first, as it always does, but as he convinces his muscles to loosen, Ricky slides in a second finger and the pressure against his walls start to stretch into something much more pleasurable.

Ricky's eyebrow arches as he slips in a third finger with little to no resistance. "Have you been prepping for me, Madej? Or does someone else fuck this ass?" He doesn't pause as he waits for an answer, pumping his fingers in and out.

"I - fuck! - have a -ah - toy that I - ohGOD - use on my own," Shane gasps out. He may not have been lying when he tried not to admit his experience to Ryan earlier that evening.

"In that case," Ricky says crisply. He withdraws his hand and stands, pulling his slacks and briefs down far enough to expose his own cock, thick and leaking. He positions himself by Shane's mouth and thrusts in, efficiently lubing himself up with Shane's saliva even as Shane chokes from the sudden intrusion.

Ricky moves back to between Shane's legs and lines himself up. Without any further warning, he pushes in, stretching Shane wide open with barely a pause. Shane cries out incoherently as he's filled, his walls stretching and burning and yet it feels _ amazing. _

No sooner has Ricky bottomed out than he's drawing out again and starting to thrust, in and out, fucking Shane with a vicious precision unlike anything he's known.

He shifts and he moves and suddenly his thick cock brushes Shane's prostate. Shane lets out a choked scream as the stimulation washes over him. Ricky doesn't give any visual indication that he's noticed, but suddenly every thrust hits the same spot. Shane dimly, incoherently muses that he's never realized the phrase 'fuck you' could be acted out in the same way it's usually intended.

Ricky continues to thrust at a punishingly fast pace, hips snapping as he grips both hips tight enough to bruise. Shane's vision is starting to go fuzzy around this edges as the tension builds, words falling from his mouth in a senseless babble.

"Fuck, yes, please, yess don' stop please please PLEASE!" he practically screams. 

Ricky grunts, his movements becoming more staccato than rhythmic, and he slams into Shane with a deep sigh. Warmth floods Shane as Ricky fills him, cock pulsing, and it pushes him over the edge. His vision goes white, and he cries out as he comes too, spilling over his own chest.

Ricky remains in place for a moment as his cock stops pulsing. He slides out, letting his come drip out onto the couch. Shane lies below him, unable to move an inch, chest still heaving and covered in his own fluids.

Ricky steps into the bathroom and emerges with his cleaned and softened cock back in his pants with his clothes neat and unmussed. He tosses a damp washcloth on Shane's chest with a derisive chuckle. "Clean yourself, Madej, you're a goddamn mess."

He continues with barely a glance at Shane's disheveled form. “I hope you’ve learned your lesson about tempting me, Legs. Don’t do it again. Unless, of course,” a smirk, a mockery of Ryan’s normally bright smile on a face that looks like his and yet nothing like him, “you want this to happen again.”

He leaves without another word or look. Shane takes the washcloth and starts to clean himself up robotically. He stumbles into the shower, barely noticing the temperature or how long he stands there. The bastard left without any aftercare. And why would Shane expect anything else? Ricky Goldsworth isn't that kind of man. If he's even a man in his own right. 

Shane shivers despite the scalding water as a thought occurs to him. Up until now, he's only ever seen Ricky in flashes, when Ryan's done the bit, when Shane's goaded him into it. What if this isn't a flash anymore? What if this is permanent?

What if Shane has inadvertently ensured that Ryan will be Ricky Goldsworth _ forever? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a one-shot but now there's a damn plot 🙃
> 
> Note on Ricky: at the moment, it's purposely ambiguous if this is Ryan playing along, possession, alter ego, whatever. All will be revealed - in due time, my pretties. All in due time.  
What's unambiguous is that he is a _terrible_ dom. No real communication before they start, no aftercare, barely any prep, no checking in as they go... yeah, don't try this at home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane deals with the aftermath of his first encounter with Ricky Goldsworth.

Shane isn’t the anxious one. That’s not his role. He’s the unfazed one, the unbothered, the one who cackles at ‘ghosts’ and dares ‘demons’ to fight.

But that weekend, he’s anxious.

He picks up his phone a dozen times in the hour he’s making coffee and eating breakfast, staring at his text history with Ryan, psyching himself up to just send him a message already. 

But every time he comes close to writing, he remembers that the typing bubbles will be visible to the other side, whoever’s seeing it. He wants to send a casual text, as if nothing happened, nothing that will provoke… anything. But even as he writes out possible messages to send, he feels cold sweat breaking out on his neck at the thought of Ryan not being the one to answer.

_ Good morning _

_ You get home safe? _

<strike> _ Remember that wacky time last night when you were inside me? _ </strike>

He spends Saturday pacing around his apartment, Obi making small _ mrrts _ of complaint at the disturbance in his normally quiet home. His nervousness only increases as he doesn’t receive any texts from Ryan, either. His friend, his coworker, the one he knows - Ryan’s on his phone a _ lot _. He’s the one who sends the first text, normally. And he hasn’t yet. 

Shane hates to extrapolate from scant evidence, but that scares him. He wants to believe that the previous night had been some weird hallucination, a fucked-up wet dream, the product of a mind that has read one too many cases of sudden violence, perhaps watched one too many videos of an, ahem, adult nature. But there are the beer bottles in and around the recycling, the stain in his couch, and an ache in his pelvis and ass that he can’t chalk up to aging. 

By Sunday, there’s still no text, and Shane is getting progressively more nervous. He tries to plan for a disaster scenario, what he’ll do if he gets to work the next day and Ricky is smirking at him from Ryan’s chair, but all he can picture is the cold overtaking those familiar brown eyes and suddenly he finds himself wanting to lift weights, or go for a run, anything to get his heart racing from something else besides this uncomfortable fear.

He wonders if that’s how Ryan’s muscles got that way.

He remembers those same muscles flexing around his throat, cutting off his air as the other hand traces down, down...

He forces himself do ten push-ups before he collapses on his stomach, arms shuddering, mind blissfully filled with incoherent thoughts of the burn of the workout.

* * *

He wakes up early on Monday morning, headachey and irritable from two straight days of stress. He considers calling in sick and hiding, but realizes that more time to worry can only make this worse. He gets into the office a full hour before his usual time, wary and alert without needing coffee.

He drinks some anyway. He burns his mouth by sipping too fast. He tries not to let it feel like an omen.

When Ryan rolls in at his normal time, Shane doesn’t move. He stays hunched over his laptop, eyes pointed at the screen. He’s never been less focused, or more tense. He watches intently through his peripheral vision as Ryan moves into the kitchen and back to his normal desk, right across from Shane. He sits with a perfectly-normal sounding, “Mornin’, Shane.”

“Mornin’,” Shane mumbles back, finally letting his eyes move.

He _ looks _ like Ryan. Eyes are normal, if a little bleary. He’s shaved today, and done his hair in a nice swoop, and he’s in a t-shirt, black with a galaxy-pattern-filled “88.” If it’s a sports reference, it’s not one Shane understands, which is about as normal as it can get.

“How was the rest of your weekend?” Ryan asks, a little more energetically than he normally manages on Monday mornings. 

Shane blinks. “Uh, pretty chill? Um. And you?”

Ryan nods. “Same, just chill.”

Do they normally say ‘chill’ this much? Normally? When it’s not a bit? Shane can’t remember. But it doesn’t _ seem _ like something Ricky would do. This feels much more like Ryan, a little awkward, a little bumbling. He’s smiling across the table and Shane is pretty sure it’s a normal Bergara smile. It feels too bright, though, like normal sunlight shining in Shane’s mentally-hungover eyes. Shane flashes a smile back as he return to his work, hoping that it looks distracted rather than sickly.

They’ve both gotten into work when Ryan breaks the silence to say “Shane, next time we hang out, please don’t let me drink that much, okay?”

“Yeah? Why?” Shane asks, every muscle suddenly tense. Does Ryan remember it, and regret it? Has he been thinking of it this entire time, breezily acting past it, trying to restore the world to normal?

“Because I don’t remember anything after like. 9pm. Which is pretty pathetic, blacking out that early. So, like, make sure I don’t do that again.”

Shane feels a small, cold feeling creep along his tense spine. “You don’t remember anything past that?”

“Nope, we were just joking and shooting the shit and then it’s all black and the next thing I know I’m waking up at home and I ache all over.”

Shane swallows and, falsely bright, shoots back with, “Must be getting old, Bergara.”

Ryan gives him the look that follows all their playful insults, the banter stare. Seeing it loosens something in Shane’s psyche, even as Ryan retorts, “Not all of us can be an alcohol sponge on legs.”

Shane lets the bit take over, his voice going lofty as he responds, “That’s because the Poles are a noble race with superpowers that you can only dream of-“

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Long Legs,” Ryan snickers, turning back to his laptop, not noticing that Shane’s staring wide-eyed at him, his breath coming just a bit quicker. But no, no, that’s just more of the bit. It’s fine. Shane’s fine. 

He gets himself another coffee. He hasn’t learned from the morning’s mistake at all, and burns his mouth again. He feels it less now.

Ryan reminds him that his brother is joining them that afternoon, when they film the Post-Mortem. Shane, on some-number cup of coffee, nods in agreement. He keeps watching Ryan for any hint of different behavior while also trying very hard to not be caught watching. His complete lack of success on the latter point has led to the creation of a new bit where he’s been claiming to be practicing his Stare for the Post-Mortem intro. Ryan’s reactions, in order: 1) he laughed, 2) he wheezed, 3) he grinned and rolled his eyes, 4) another wheeze, and 5) a raised eyebrow and “I didn’t realize you needed that much practice.” 

He makes it to the set, coffee firmly in hand. He’s a little antic today, keeping himself distracted, keeping Ryan distracted. He hadn’t planned to bring up his story from the movie theater but he rambles on for what’s probably too long about poop in the bathroom. His day has felt strangely like that, discovering something shocking and a bit unpleasant and slowly backing out of the room, and walking away, leaving it for some future person to clean it up.

He wishes he’d looked over Ryan’s questions when another mess arrives in the form of a fan theory about Room 1046. About a “dom/sub thing” taken too far. He’s proud of himself for not spitting out his coffee, and for keeping his gaze from immediately flicking to the man beside him. Jittery from all the caffeine he’s consumed, he starts speaking without truly considering what he’s saying. “I can see this being legitimate because sometimes these things are taken… to an extreme,” he begins, and now he’s definitely looking at Ryan’s skeptical expression and Jake’s slightly-bemused one behind him.

Ice water trickles down his spine as Ryan’s eyes flick to the camera and back, but then the banter is back with the utterly ridiculous phrase “Sex Snapple” and it feels like reassurance. He slips back into banter, asks Jake about Ryan as a kid, and leans against his hand as Jake reads off the new question.

Shane is a professional. He plays Himself, as a bit, for a living. So when the question asks for the return of Ricky Goldsworth, perhaps even with C.C. Tinsley, Shane doesn’t jump out of his skin, he just blinks. He turns to Jake, but he’s watching Ryan, looking at how he’s holding himself, looking for any slight change. 

Ryan’s smirking. “All I know is,” he says, turning to face Shane and Shane alone, “Ricky Goldsworth might come back.”

Shane head whips away, blood roaring in his ears. It must be a bit, right? It’s gotta be. Ryan _ sounds _like Ryan still. But Shane wishes that his response was anything but real.

“Just don’t make him angry.” _ That’s Ryan’s voice, it’s gotta be. It’s a bit, just a bit… _

“Will we like him when he’s angry?” he asks, meaning for it to sound more like a comic book character, but he can feel real hesitance creeping in.

“Why don’t you stop asking me questions.” _ Fuck, no, the voice changed, that was HIM, Oh Jesus. _

And Ryan’s shaking his head, apologizing, but then the look swings back to Shane and he really, really wishes he could tell how much is a bit. Some of it is, he knows that, he knows Ryan created it, but something in his limbs is starting to feel floaty and detached and if they weren’t filming he would be walking very, very quickly to the exit. He relies entirely on his acting and the coffee to carry him through the rest of the video, playing up his own bit for all he’s worth. He’s strangely glad that he gets to fall into the Daga - it’s as Bit as a bit can get, a whole other version of Shane the Narrator, who exists to spin this tale and make Ryan look like the exasperated skeptic for once. 

And then, it’s over, and Shane’s survived, and he’s feeling very relieved and about to wrap up early for the day when Ryan asks to come to the sound booths to re-record some V.O. chatter for the next ep, and it would be very noticeable to say no, so off he goes, following Ryan down the long hallway of sound booths. Ryan takes them to their normal one, a smaller room without the attached studio. It happens to therefore not have a window, yeah, and it happens to be at the end of the hall, but that can’t mean anything and Shanes tells himself that over and over until Ryan pauses from fiddling with his laptop and asks, “Were you scared?”

The sound Shane makes in reply could arguably pass for a “huh?” but he wouldn’t put money on it.

“Earlier. During filming. Were you scared?”

_ Make it a bit, make it a bit. _“Of how good the Daga is, maybe-”

“You know exactly what I mean.” Shane knows that voice, and he refuses to look, refuses to meet the gaze that’s steadily trained on him. If he looks, he’ll see the change in his eyes and he’ll lose the last veneer of deniability left to him. 

“I thought I made it clear that I expect you to answer me when I ask you a question,” Ricky snaps, pulling Shane’s chin to face him. 

“Yes, okay?” Shane says shakily, not wanting to risk pulling away.

“Yes _ what."_

“Yes, I was scared.”

“I knew you had some brains in that abnormally big head of yours,” Ricky says as a cruel grin slices across Ryan’s face. “Even if it’s hidden behind that sharp mouth.”

Shane feels another shiver down his neck as Ricky’s gaze lowers.

“That’s a thought,” the man murmurs, to himself rather than to Shane. “That’s what you can do for me.”

Despite his better judgment. Shane asks, “What do you mean?”

“Put your mouth to good use,” Ricky orders. “Now.”

“We’re at work, you can’t-”

“We’re in a private, sound-proof room that no one expects you to emerge from for a good hour. Don’t tell me what I can or cannot do.” He snaps and points, like a dog trainer. “On your knees.”

Shane jerks backward. “You planned this?”

“No. I’m just taking advantage of what you and Ryan have so helpfully set up for me. Now _ kneel.” _

Shane wants to ask more questions but the iron in Ricky’s voice is building and he’d rather not push his luck. He sinks down to his knees, wincing as Ricky’s hand digs into his hair and the other starts undoing the belt that’s now on his eye level.

“You were a good toy on Friday, Legs, so I’ll give you a boon: you can tap out by squeezing my leg twice in a row.” Ricky pushes his pants and briefs down, freeing his half-hard cock inches from Shane’s face. “Get to it.”

Shane is frozen, though he knows he should be moving. Friday night, Ricky had barely undressed himself. So though he’s _ felt _ the cock in front of him, this is the first time he’s actually seen it, and it feels invasive. No matter who’s controlling it, this is still Ryan’s body, and it feels like Shane’s walked in on him changing and stayed to stare. 

Which, of course, he’d never do. He’s joked about it, of course, on shoots, in the motels they crash in, particularly when Ryan made time to use the tiny gyms along the way. It’s become routine, Ryan working out his fear while Shane made jokes about the traveling gun show. 

They aren’t jokes if it’s just objective fact, right?

But this. This is different, and prying, and Shane hates that Ricky’s put him in this position.

“I’m losing my patience, Madej,” the cold voice snaps. “Get to it, or you lose the right to control any part of this.”

_ Does it look like I’m in control _ now _ ? _Shane wonders hopelessly. But he edges closer all the same and places a hesitant hand on Ricky’s thigh.

“Don’t pretend like you don’t know what you’re doing,” Ricky drawls. “We both know that’s a lie.”

Shane looks up without meaning to, shocked. Ricky laughs humorlessly. “Yes, I can tell. You might be able to keep your life private from Ryan, but I see how you look at him. If a gaze could touch, you’d have undressed him a hundred times over. Assessing him, ogling him, mentally measuring your body against his. And don’t think I’ve forgotten your sweet little confession, that you play with yourself too. Was it everything you pictured, being opened up by his hands, being fucked by his body?”

Shane doesn’t want to go through with this, but Ricky’s words echo with something that’s uncomfortably edging towards truth and that’s more than Shane’s brain can handle right now. So he leans forward, wetting his tongue, and sucks the head of Ricky’s cock into his mouth in one movement. Ricky leans back against the wall with a satisfied sound, hand still firmly buried in Shane’s hair, holding with enough force that he can’t fully withdraw. 

Shane hopes he can at least get this over with fast, which means pulling out skills he hasn’t used in years. He relaxes his throat and starts to work his way down, letting his lips stretch around Ricky’s thick cock. He moves as slowly as he dares until his nose bumps into Ricky’s pelvic bone. He swallows, creating more suction, and is rewarded with an appreciative grunt from above and a squeezing hand on the back of his head. Maybe he’ll get out of this without too much nastiness.

He slides back up, running his tongue along the underside as he goes, flicking it across lightly. All the way to the tip, almost let it pop free, then purse his lips and suck in just the head with the tightest suction he can create. He earns a true moan with that, a surprisingly soft sound. He doesn’t look up, just keeps moving, repeating the same motion with an added tongue flicking just under the head as he withdraws. He squeezes one hand around the very base as the other slides underneath to cup Ricky’s balls gently. The man shifts his legs slightly apart, giving more access, so Shane keeps going. Sucking wetly, focusing on the head, he alternates with long strokes to meet his hand’s gentle rubbing. He can feel the skin and muscles start to tighten. 

He’s almost there, almost done, almost at the edge. Shane’s almost free.

He lets himself speed up, getting a bit sloppy, and Ricky’s reacting in strings of quiet curses and swears. His hand still traps Shane close, but the other is braced against the wall. Shane takes a second to press one smooth finger just behind his balls into the soft skin there just as he takes Ricky’s entire length into his throat. 

He hears a quiet _ “Fuck!” _ and Ricky is coming, pulling him in roughly and making him swallow as come shoots down his throat. His cock pulses as Shane swallows, fighting back his gag reflex to avoid letting it all spill over his face. Ricky starts to move Shane, lazily thrusting in and out of his mouth as he rides the wave of his orgasm.

Just when Shane thinks it’s over, Ricky’s grip tightens and he hears an order. “Look at me.”

He doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to see it if Ricky looks wrecked and satisfied. He doesn’t want to see him unmoved, either. He doesn’t want to see the view of Ryan’s face from this position only to have a stranger looking back.

Ricky tugs on his hair sharply, tilting his head back, and Shane can’t fight the sharp bite of pain. He looks up, his eyes meeting Ricky’s as the man slowly withdraws his cock from his mouth, wiping the last bit of saliva on his cheek. 

“Good toy,” Ricky says, a flinty grin on his hard features. “You work this cock so well.”

Shane suddenly asks, almost pleading, “It’s true that Ryan doesn’t remember any of it? It’s all just you, right?”

“I can release him right now, make sure he remembers _ this-” _

“No, please,” Shane begs, hoarse and hating it. “Don’t drop him in here, not now. I - does he know what we're - what you’re doing?”

“Doesn’t seem to, does he? He’s the host, I’m just putting his body to better use than he does. And giving you what you clearly want, too. No need to thank me.”

“I don’t-” Shane starts, but Ricky catches him with a look.

“I gave you a safeword. I gave you a tap-out. You could end this any time you want. And yet you haven’t. Don’t kid yourself, Madej. We both know you’ve been thirsting after this for years.” He gestures to Ryan’s body as he pulls himself back together, hiding his softened cock and fixing his jeans. 

_ Not like this, _Shane thinks hopelessly. 

“Go to the bathroom. Clean yourself up. You still have voiceovers to record,” Ricky orders.

Shane stands and steps towards the door, then pauses. “Who will be here when I get back?” he asks hesitantly. 

Ricky grins. “You’ll just have to find out, won’t you? Better have a good coverup ready, just in case.”

Shane practically flees into the hallway, remembering at the last second to walk normally for any coworkers in the hall. In the single-stall bathroom, his rinses his mouth over and over, trying to rid himself of the salty, bitter tang of cock and cum. He splashes water across his face and tries to fix his hair, doing anything to make sure he does _ not _ look like he just sucked off a coworker in the sound booth. Somehow, he doesn’t think HR will easily accept “My cohost may actually be possessed by the personality of an amoral dom” as an excuse.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane makes an attempt to fix the Ricky situation by avoiding it (and Ryan) entirely. It doesn't go well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to follow actual timelines more, but temporal reasoning is not my strong suit and I gave up 🙃
> 
> (#BringBackRuiningHistory)

After the booth encounter, Shane distances himself. He can’t get too far, obviously, not when they work at the same desk, on the same show, have so many shared friends. But there are fewer drinks after work. Fewer offers to grab lunch out of the office. Nights at the bar are only in the comforting mass of coworkers, not alone, just the ghoul boys.

It hurts. Every time he turns down an offer with a smile and a “Sorry, no time today,” he sees Ryan’s face fall and it pinches him, tight and sharp and painful. Every time he leaves the set the minute they’re done filming and hears Ryan about to say something, he forces himself to keep walking. Every time he makes eye contact through the crowd at a Buzzfeed happy hour but stays back, he feels every molecule of his being telling him to _ get over there, you dumbass. _ He ignores it, pushes back, and goes back to talking to other people. It’s for the best. It’ll be better for them both.

Sometimes, at night, he closes his eyes and sees Ryan’s face. He grabs his phone, sometimes, opens their text history (almost all work logistics, now, hardly any memes or chatter), and stares, wishing for time to rewind so that it could be easy again. Some nights he starts typing, writing out jokes or inviting him for a beer. Then he closes his eyes again and sees a different face, so achingly similar, but crucially, painfully changed. Most nights it terrifies him. Some nights, the memories end with his left hand wrapped around his own neck while his right works furiously on his own cock or with a toy buried deep inside him, thoughts drowning in a cold voice and colder eyes as he orders himself to be as silent as possible.

He deletes the messages, refuses to send them. He’ll keep Ryan safe, at least. He can do this much.

He keeps it up for a full two months before he caves.

Ryan, who is far too good a friend and one that Shane doesn’t deserve, hasn’t given up on him. He tries less, but he still invites him out, still offers lunch or drinks or coffee even when they both know he prefers tea. One Friday in late November, Ryan looks up from putting his laptop away for the day and asks, “Hey, Shane, wanna grab a beer?”

Shane looks up into that familiar face, already resigned and prepared for another brush-off. His hair isn’t fully done today, just the lightest bit of product to keep it artfully ruffled rather than a full rat’s nest. He’s wearing his glasses and a sweater with a collared shirt underneath, and looks vaguely like a college professor, if that college professor had a side hustle as a personal trainer or a model. And it’s been so long since they’ve hung out _ not _ for work that Shane is speaking before he can think better of it.

“Actually, yeah, that’d be great.”

Ryan looks stunned for less than a second before his face lights up with a proper smile, and it’s only then that Shane realizes how his face has been slowly closing off. The door that had been edging further and further towards shut has just been flung wide open, letting the inviting light of the indoors flood out to pull Shane straight in. “Really? Awesome, there’s a brewery that just opened I’ve been meaning to check out.”

Shane smiles back, wondering how he managed this for so long when there’s a warmth spreading all the way to his fingers and toes just from seeing Ryan happy. 

“How far’s it? I can drive us,” he offers.

“Like 15 minutes - but I can drive, Shane, you don’t need to-”

“It’s no problem at all,” he replies warmly.

He worries, briefly, that maybe it’ll be tense or awkward but it’s not, not for a second. The minute Ryan’s in the passenger seat, he’s making cracks about the mess in Shane’s car, even as he pulls up the directions, and they fall into banter like they’re on set. But of course, there’s no camera, no one telling them to pause, no attempts at recreating the same joke with real-looking reactions so that it looks better. Also, Shane can’t look over quite so easily, given that he needs to, you know, watch the road. He only misses a red switching to green once, and he catches himself before anyone can honk and before Ryan notices.

It’s so dumb, that he’s this deliriously happy already. And it’s a good thing he has the excuse of being designated driver, because he only needs one beer to start feeling practically tipsy.

“I’ve missed this,” Ryan comments off-hand as he orders himself another round. “We need to do this more often.”

“Yeah, we do,” Shane responds, grinning over the pint he’s been nursing for the better part of an hour. “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy recently.”

“Yeah, I know, all that research for Ruining History! It’s gonna be great, man, I can’t wait. Don’t forget us little guys when you make it big, yeah?”

Shane winks. “Oh, I’ll never forget you, you’re the _ littlest _guy.”

“Hey, fuck off, you don’t get to turn my compliment into a joke about my height!”

“But look at me, I’ve already made it big!” Shane says, extending his legs off the barstool to gesture to his entire body.

“Ugh, you better _ not _ get famous, your noggin’s already freakishly large, what would we even _ do _if it swelled up more.”

“Watch in awe as I spend all those Big Baller paychecks on hats that actually fit me, probably. I might even get a crown!”

They’re so caught up jokes and planning and copious amounts of ragging on each other that Shane’s caught completely off guard when he looks around to see that it’s dark and the bar’s emptier than before. It’s also only then that he realizes that Ryan’s been drinking for several hours, and it’s not just the red bar lights making his cheeks shine.

“I was gonna drive you back to the office to get to your car, but that’s clearly not happening,” he muses. “I’d better take you home.”

“Yeah, you should, I’m a cheap date,” Ryan says, smiling up at him, then he’s hit by a fit of giggles at his own joke.

“Who’s cheap, you picked a fancy joint,” Shane throws back at him. “I’ve heard all about men like you, using your wiles to get that sweet, sweet Buzzfeed cash.”

“Hmmm, is it working? Am I wily enough?” Ryan attempts to lean elegantly on the bar, but his coordination isn’t quite there at this point, and he misses his own hand, still giggling.

“You’re definitely drunk enough,” Shane says wryly. “Come on, Bergara, let’s get you home.”

He closes their tab as Ryan stumbles to a bathroom, and guides him back to his car. He’d forgotten what a happy drunk Ryan can be, and drives with a smile on his face, listening to his friend ramble in the passenger seat about new places he wants to go and rumors he’s heard of other hauntings.

He’s almost sorry to arrive at Ryan’s apartment complex, but this has been so _ nice, _and nothing bad or weird has happened, so really, he can’t complain. Even if Ryan needs to be supervised getting up the stairs because of how much he’s swaying as he walks.

Ryan fumbles through his pockets at his door, tongue stuck out in concentration as he extracts his keys. He really must be three sheets to the wind, that’s the third time he’s checked his back jeans pocket. Not that Shane’s staring at his ass. That would be a very not-friend thing to do.

“Uh, Shane?”

“Yeah, Ry?”

“...I think I lost my keys.”

Shane sighs. “You stay here and keep looking, okay? And text your roommates. I’ll check the walk up and the car.”

But a search in the dark turns up nothing, even when he checks under the mat and the seat. Shane gets back to the top of the stairs to see Ryan looking sheepish. “I think they’re all out. I can’t hear anything inside and no one picked up.”

“You’re a mess, Bergara,” Shane says, rolling his eyes.

“Can I sleep at your place?”

Shane blinks. That would be the most sensible option. That’s what friends do when friends get locked out. And it’s all been okay so far, right? It’ll be fine. “Course, man. Hope you’re looking forward to Obi falling asleep on your face.”

“Not if I’m on your face first! Wait, no. If _ you’re _ on my face. No, that’s also not right,” Ryan mumbles as Shane guides him back to the car. It’s blessedly dark, so Shane is definitely not blushing at the other connotation of Ryan’s words and no one can prove him wrong. “Him! Obi on _ your _face! That’s it!”

“That’s right, Ry. Obi will fall asleep on my face,” he responds, humoring him as he makes sure he’s put on his seatbelt. 

Ryan reaches out suddenly and pats Shane’s cheek. “S’nice face. Big face. But nice.”

“Uh, thanks, yeah, you have a nice face too.” No heat in these cheeks, no sir. Not a jury in the world could convict. 

“Nahhhh, it’s weirdd, my cheeks are too round an’ my eyes are too small an’ my forehead’s too big…”

“Shhhh,” Shane interrupts, reaching over from where he’s entered the driver’s side to clap his hand over Ryan’s mouth. “It’s a lovely face, no bad-talking yourself.”

Ryan looks over, and Shane can tell he’s smiling from the crinkle in his eyes. Then he feels wet warmth on his hand and withdraws it with a swear. “The fuck? Did you _ lick _ me?”

Ryan starts to cackle as Shane wipes his hand off and drives them back to his place.

He gets Ryan into his apartment and to a seat in the living room with relative ease. He even gets him to drink some water, knowing that he’s not _ quite _ young enough to escape a hangover. He also gets him a benadryl to help with the cat dander before his mild allergy becomes too itchy. He putters around, pulling out extra sheets and blankets to make the couch more comfortable. He carefully does not think of the last time Ryan was in this room.

“Hey Shane?”

“Yeah, Ry?”

“I missed you.”

Shane looks over, but Ryan’s just smiling up at him. “What do y’mean, I haven’t gone anywhere.”

“Yeah, but I feel like we never see each other outside work. And this was fun.”

“I had fun too. Just wait, though, soon we’ll be on the road again and you’ll get sick of this ugly mug in your space all the time.” Shane realizes as he says it that _ he’s _ not ready for that. He’s gonna have to ease back into this so that he’s prepared for the life of All Ryan, All The Time he’ll have once they’re on location for Supernatural. He hopes they’ll be able to afford some separate rooms this time. Otherwise Ryan’s previously-innocuous choice of sleepwear, soft sweats and no shirt, will _ absolutely _ ruin him. 

“Hmm, nah, I like it. S’nice face,” Ryan repeats. He pulls off his sweater and button-down as he crawls into the sheets, still mumbling to himself, but his sounds appear to be of contentment. 

Shane is very, definitely, unmoved by it all of it. Which is why he certainly does not have to catch himself from reaching out for Ryan’s face. And surely not why he needs to detour his hand to awkwardly flatten Ryan’s hair instead from where it’s been messed by the pillow and his general disorder from being drunk.

Ryan stills at the touch, but doesn’t flinch away. He just smiles fuzzily up at Shane, eyes slightly out of focus still and cheeks certainly still glowing from the alcohol. Shane needs to move. He needs to stand up. He needs to get away. Or tonight will be the end of their friendship, as much as it still exists, because he is going to do something unbelievably dumb.

It’s that thought, that he needs to preserve this however he can, that compels him to remove his hand and step away. He takes a deep breath, composing himself, and tells Ryan good night.

“Night night,” Ryan mumbles back, getting progressively sleepier. “Thas’ me, Night Night Begra. Boogara. Barragara. Bergara.” He burrows into the couch cushions and is asleep within seconds.

Shane walks to his room and shuts the door quietly behind him, breathing deep still. He’s done it. They got to hang out again, and it was great. Ryan’s staying on his couch, but it’s fine. They’re fine. Shane just needs to stop accidentally staring and they’ll be good to go.

_ See, I knew I could do it, _ he thinks to himself. _ I’ve recovered. I’ve fixed it. Nothing can ruin the Ghoul Boys, not even Ricky Goldsworth. _

In retrospect, he really should have known that kind of hubris was guaranteed to end badly.

Early in the morning, before the sun’s fully up, Shane feels a weight on the edge of the mattress. Without opening his eyes, he mutters, “Go ‘way Obi, not food time yet.”

“Good, you’re awake,” a chilly voice responds.

And now, he is, clinging to his sheets as he turns to see Ricky Goldsworth staring down at him with a calculating gaze. Shane can’t help staring back, gulping audibly as he realizes that Ricky did not pick up Ryan’s discarded shirt of the night before. He has a half-naked, incredibly attractive man sitting on the edge of his bed, and it’s the worst thing to happen to him in months.

“What, didn’t you miss me?” Ricky asks, a taunting smile stretching across his features.

Shane shakes his head almost imperceptibly, still clutching the sheets up practically to his chin.

Ricky shakes his head with a small sigh. “What I have I said about lying? You think I can’t tell you want this? You think I can’t _ see _ it?”

Betrayed by his own body. Shane swears internally as he feels his cock react to every word out of Ricky’s mouth. But he’s not giving up his dignity without a jab in return. “I have the same reaction to porn. Doesn’t mean I suddenly have an overriding lust for the pizza guy.”

Ricky raises a brow. “Oh, look, it’s that smart mouth again. You remember what happens to that, don’t you, Shane.”

Shane glares up at him in defiance, but doesn’t reply.

Infuriatingly, it only makes the man grin more. “I knew you’d remember, Madej. You’re such a good toy, even sleeping practically naked for me. Growl all you want, I know you love it. Love being told your place, being used by me, getting degraded in all the right ways, feeling this body take you apart inch by inch.” He runs a hand along the outline of his thigh over the sheet, tracing up towards where Shane’s cock twitches visibly in anticipation. That familiar predatory grin returns, and Ricky’s hand dips in the curve of his thigh, stopping so close to his balls that he can feel his body heat through even the sheet and his flannel pants.

Shane’s mouth goes dry, all retorts escaping him. His logical, rational mind is still screaming to stop, to end this, but it’s a tiny voice echoing from a mountain range away as every molecule in his body creates a much more immediate symphony of demands that he comply with whatever Ricky has planned _ right this second. _

“Put the sheet down,” Ricky orders in a voice like steel, and the symphony wins. Shane obediently pushes the sheet down past his waist, revealing only his pajama pants. The thin material feels like no cover at all, particularly where the fabric is stretched and tented over his crotch.

Ricky doesn’t even ask, just glances down and back up meaningfully at Shane, and Shane’s complying with the unspoken order and stripping himself entirely. 

And then Ricky pauses, his gaze raking over Shane’s form. His stare is piercing and pointed and leaves Shane feeling raw and vulnerable from far more than just his nakedness. 

Ricky’s hand starts to move, ghosting over Shane’s legs without touching. He traces up, over the curve of his thigh, over his hip bones, all the way up his long torso. He pauses with his hand less than an inch from Shane’s neck, and chuckles lowly as Shane instinctively leans his head back, exposing more of his throat.

“You want to be choked, toy?” And the pressure is there before he finishes speaking, a vise around Shane’s long neck, cutting off his air as he gasps at the intrusion and the touch all at once.

Ricky’s other hand comes up, dragging along Shane’s skin now, sending heat rippling out in his wake. The heat ignites into flames as he digs his nails in, scratching pink lines up Shane’s pale thighs. Shane suppresses the urge to whine - he may have yielded embarrassingly quick, but he can retain _ some _ of his dignity.

That illusion is immediately shattered as Ricky scratches a trail up into the inside of his thighs, then drags his finger up and around his hips without touching his cock. It’s maddening, how just this touch alone drives Shane mad, and it’s more maddening still that his hips instinctively buck up, straining for any contact, making Ricky chuckle evilly again.

“That’s right, toy, show me how much you want it,” he murmurs, still holding a firm hand around Shane’s throat. “Show me how desperate you are for my touch. I know you’ve been thinking about it, ever since last time.”

“Have not,” Shane lies, breathy but defiant around Ricky’s chokehold.

He’s answered by a loud crack and a stinging warmth growing on his cheek. “Don’t you dare lie to me, Madej,” Ricky growls. “Don’t make me slap the truth out of you.” He removes his hand from Shane’s throat, and the exposed skin aches at the loss of contact. “Flip over. Hands and knees. Don't forget - your safeword is Tinsley.”

Shane complies, skin prickling to be looking away, not being able to see what Ricky’s doing. He’s completely vulnerable and unprepared, and the thought excites him more than he cares to admit.

In a strange, detached way, Shane wonders if he’s been the true coward all along. Sure, Ryan is the one who sweats and screams, but he truly believes they’re encountering paranormal threats, and he goes seeking them anyway. Shane blusters and bloviates, but it’s easy to be brave in an empty room. The minute Ricky emerges with the slightest hint of power, Shane folds like a wet napkin. Is it cowardice that makes him so pliant? Is it this strange force that lets Ricky take over Ryan’s body that takes Shane’s will to resist with it? Or is it just the body itself that Shane will yield to with even the slightest invitation, the body and who owns it?

His thoughts are interrupted by a loud crack and another stinging pain blossoming on his ass. He gasps, a choked sound quickly interrupted by a smack on the other cheek. Ricky runs his hand over the globe of Shane’s ass, fingers blessedly cool in contrast to the heat of the handprint-shaped mark Shane can feel forming. Just as he starts to relax, Ricky pulls back and smacks him again, another stinging blow that makes Shane cry out. He doesn’t give him a break this time, following up immediately with another and another until Shane is breathless and panting and his ass feels like it’s on fire.

Ricky stops his onslaught, but Shane feels the weight behind him shift and then the unmistakable click of a bottle opening. He remembers with a slight cringe that he’d left his lube under the bed where it fell after its last use. When he’d fucked himself with a toy until he’d been boneless and whimpering, picturing a scenario that had looked quite a lot like his current one. Something is a little different here, but he can’t put a finger on it.

And then he feels Ricky’s finger moving in circles around his entrance and that line of thought is derailed for another, less interesting time. Particularly because he is determined that this time, he won’t immediately because a whining, moaning mess, because he’ll be prepared for the intrusion, for the stretch, for the _ holy shit what was that?! _

Ricky runs his wet tongue around the puckered skin of Shane’s hole again, and Shane can feel the man’s breath huffing in laughter at him for the pathetic mewl that sneaks its way out of his mouth despite his best intentions.

Ricky shifts back, and his finger replaces his tongue, slick with lube and immediately sinking in to the second knuckle. Shane shudders, but doesn’t make a sound this time. His arms flex as he holds himself up, willing himself to be just a passive recipient.

_ I can just get through this. If I’m not offering him a show, if I stop being the noisy toy offering him entertainment, maybe he’ll stop showing up. Maybe he just wants the power trip of undoing me, and if I deny him that satisfaction, he’ll get bored. _

_ Maybe then he’ll move on to a new toy. _

There are two fingers sliding in now, and yes, it feels good, but Shane’s brain has apparently decided to hold tight to its last thought, worrying at it like a dog with a bone.

_ What if Ricky does move on? What if he takes Ryan’s body to go fuck other people? Why do I hate that idea so much? _

“You’re too quiet, Madej,” Ricky growls. “Are you trying to prove you can take it?”

Shane hesitates, then nods. Going along with his assumption seems the safest option here, until he can figure out why his brain is confused.

“Challenge accepted,” the cold voice responds, and his fingers withdraw, leaving Shane to clench around nothing. He hears the bottle being opened again and forces himself to breathe easy, keeping his muscles relaxed, just like when he teases himself with his toys. It means when he feels Ricky pressing his lubed cock into him, it only burns for a moment as he’s stretched out before it reaches the level of being pleasurable. Shane lets his eyes flutter closed, breathing deep as he adjusts. He realizes with a start that Ricky’s actually giving him time to do so.

Ricky grips his hips with both hands and starts to grind into him slowly, not thrusting, just shifting and filling him until he gasps aloud. It must be the signal Ricky was waiting for, because now he’s pulling out and thrusting in again, ramping up his speed without sacrificing an iota of accuracy. When he starts hitting his prostate on every third thrust, Shane lets himself react naturally with a deeply appreciative _ “Fuck!” _

Shane’s surprised by how good it feels, and how easy it is to enjoy it this time. The last time Ricky fucked him, it felt like he was trying to extract weakness rather than impart pleasure. It feels more like what he pictures when he’s alone, but something’s still off, and he’s _ far _ too occupied to dig into the discrepancy at this current moment, thank you.

Ricky grunts and picks up the pace, hips slapping into Shane’s still-sensitive ass, hands gripping his hips tight enough to bruise. His movements are becoming more erratic, and Shane braces himself, staying as still as possible to let Ricky fully control his thrusts as he nears his climax. 

Suddenly, a warm, still-lubed hand is around Shane’s cock, pumping in time with the thrusts. Shane moans as his need entirely clouds his brain, leaving him able only to seek out more and more of the delicious pressure that’s building up quickly. He thrusts forward into Ricky’s hand and back onto his cock, caught in between in the best way, entirely surrounded by sensation.

Ricky thrusts harder until his hips stutter and he slams into Shane, shuddering slightly as his hand keeps pumping Shane’s cock. Shane feels the heat spread and he’s so close, right on the edge, as long as that hand keeps moving like that and the sweaty torso sprawled over his back stays there. _ “Please,” _he begs, “don’t stop, I need - fuck, yes, there, please!”

“Come for me, Madej,” the hoarse voice growls in his ear, and he does, gasping and desperate, coating the sheets under him.

The minute the softening-cock exits him, he collapses onto his side, avoiding the wet spot. His chest is still heaving from the adrenaline rush, endorphins and dopamine fizzing through his veins. “Fuck, Ry, that was so good,” he murmurs, eyes half-closed.

The hand on his ankle tightens suddenly, and his brain catches up with his mouth. “No, not- I mean Ricky,” he corrects, heart pounding at the thought of how the man will respond. “I’m sorry, I-” Then he looks up.

For a second it’s as expected. There’s Ricky, staring down at him, hand wrapped around his ankle like a cuff, chest glistening with sweat. Then he meets his eyes. Warm brown eyes, wide open in shock, stare back, in an expression that’s practically as familiar as his own reflection. Suddenly the missing piece clicks into place, the slightly-off-ness that’s been missing from his imaginings. None of them have been Ricky Goldsworth, not the cold, intimidating criminal mastermind. They’ve all been of Ryan Bergara, his friend, his coworker, his terribly unrequited crush. 

The man currently staring at him like he’s just seen a demon and ghost gang up to start charging at him.

“Ryan?” he says stupidly, unable to summon enough brainpower to say anything more coherent.

Ryan’s eyes dart around the room and back to Shane, who’s naked on his bed, surrounded by come stains, and who’s starting to feel his insides turning to ice. 

“I have to-” Ryan starts, then darts out into the bathroom, practically slamming the door behind him, hall echoing with the click of the lock.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane and Ryan deal with the aftermath of the poorly-timed revelation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is longer than any other by almost twice as much. Whoops?

When Ryan emerges from the bathroom in the hall, the bedroom door is tightly shut. Shane is sitting in the living room in a haphazard outfit of the first sweatshirt he got his hands on and the baggiest, most shapeless sweatpants he owns. He realizes that Ryan’s already seen far more of Shane’s body than he ever wished to, but he might as well offer as few reminders as possible.

Ryan’s wearing his wrinkled button-down and jeans from the night before. Shane had frantically grabbed them and left it outside the bathroom, assuming correctly, it seems, that Ryan would want to be very much fully clothed for the aftermath. Shane is prepared for him to recover his sweater from the coat rack and leave immediately, to never speak about this again, and also never to speak to _ Shane _ again. Instead, he sits in the chair opposite Shane with the buffer of the entire living room to act as his chaperone.

Shane already feels like a predator, whether or not they talk about this. He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and asks, “When did you, ah, get back.”

“...just after the, uh, exit? After the end?”

“Ah. I see.”

Ryan shifts a bit in his seat, clearly hating the silence. “I’m sorry,” he blurts out. 

“Why are _ you _ sorry?” Shane asks, baffled. “This was all this… I don’t know, entity. Personality. Calling himself Ricky Goldsworth, taking over you, doing… things. You couldn’t control it.”

“Neither could you,” Ryan retorts.

“Couldn’t I, though?” Shane asks miserably. Ryan looks at him, a question in his eyes. “He gave me an out, every time,” Shane explains softly, looking down to avoid eye contact. “A safeword, a signal that would end it. I could have taken that out, left the scene, but I was too selfish, too caught up in it. I should have used it for you, to save you from being pulled in too. I’m sorry, Ry.”

Ryan looks down, a faint flush in his cheeks. “Shane, I know this has been probably the weirdest twenty-four hours ever-”

“Definitely in the top five,” Shane quips, using the ‘No shit, Sherlock’ tone he uses to point out facts he finds _ particularly _ obvious. Like, the existence of science. Or alternative explanations besides ghosts.

“It’s already this weird and can’t get that much weirder, right? So I’m gonna come clean too.”

Shane’s gaze whips over to Ryan’s face. His friend is looking down now, and his knee is jiggling. If they were on a shoot, Shane would chalk it up to pre-investigation fear. In the office, it would be the anxiousness that comes before a budget or pitch meeting. Here, in his living room lit in stark shadow and light by the filtered sun and walls, he’s not sure what to expect.

Ryan steadily looks away as he starts to speak. “I… I know that these last couple of months have been, uh, weird for you. And I know a large part of that was because of this unpredictable change that only you knew about.”

Shane grunts noncommittally. Actually pointing out what an understatement that is feels unnecessary at this point.

“Which is why I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner. Because the truth is,” Ryan takes a deep breath, closing his eyes, and says, “Iknewthewholetime.” The phrase comes out in a rush, adrenaline forcing words out into the world before his anxiety can second-guess it.

Shane blinks once, then twice, staring. “Huh?” he asks finally.

“I _ knew,” _ Ryan says. “I, uh, saw. When it was happening.”

What little blood was left in Shane’s face drains out, leaving him bone-pale as he stares. “You did?” he whispers. “Oh _ fuck, _I’m so sorry-”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Ryan interrupts. “I mean it.”

“You never said- I could have tried harder, I could’ve stopped-” Shane starts, but his brain is being unhelpfully distracted by thinking of Ryan watching, Ryan seeing everything they’ve done. “I- were you forced to watch? Could you look away?”

Ryan is blushing faintly, Shane presumes with discomfort at this terrible, awkward situation they’ve found themselves in. “No, not forced. It was kinda like, I don’t know. A VR stream. Seeing everything, knowing it was technically me, but not being able to affect it. But if I shifted my focus, if I metaphorically closed my eyes, I didn’t keep seeing it, and it would end eventually.”

Shane buries his faces in his hands. “That’s a tiny blessing, at least,” he mumbles through his fingers. “Oh Jesus, I can’t believe this is _ more _ of a mess than I imagined.”

“Want it to get messier?” Ryan asks, and from the slightly-shocked look on his face, Shane suspects he hadn’t planned to actually say that out loud. 

“What does messier mean?” Shane asks, looking up warily. 

Ryan reaches up an arm to scratch his neck awkwardly. His muscles bulge from the angle and Shane forcibly drags his eyes down to Ryan’s face instead.

“I, well. I didn’t say anything at first, because I was just so shocked still. I didn’t know what to say, what to text. I knew it wasn’t really _ me _ but I didn’t know how to explain that, and I wasn’t sure if you knew, and I was kind of hoping maybe it had been a hallucination… and then you asked, that time in the, ah, booth… you wanted to be sure that it was only him, not me watching. And I wasn’t sure why you asked.” He lets it hang, a question that Shane can choose to answer or not.

He looks away, but answers all the same. “It would have made it worse, to know that you were being forced to watch, too.”

He’s sure he’s hallucinating the way Ryan’s face falls as he says, “I mean. You were the one being actually… forced. I’m sure it’s worse for you.”

Shane smiles unhappily. It is kind of ironic that having his dirtiest dreams come to life has turned out to be acutely painful. Ironic that he didn’t realize his attraction went beyond Ryan’s body until he’s been thoroughly fucked by it. “That’s probably true.” 

They fall silent. Ryan’s jittery, unable to sit still, clearly no longer comfortable with the silences that they’ve been sharing for years. Probably because he’s sitting with a man he’s watched be willingly, eagerly taken apart by his hands and mouth and cock. Shane swallows miserably, still looking away, wanting to avoid seeing Ryan’s face contorting in disgust at the thought.

“Did you- you said, before, that you were being selfish,” Ryan starts. He looks over to Shane for confirmation before continuing. “Does that mean- you, uh, enjoyed it?”

Shane tenses, but look at where they are. Look at how this night has already blown up everything that was their friendship. There’s no point in even trying to lie. “Yeah,” he says, trying to keep his voice neutral. “Yeah, I did. I shouldn’t have, once I realized what was happening, but I couldn’t help myself.” He sighs. “Actually, that’s not even right, I definitely could have helped myself, I just chose not to. Just call me good ol’ Shane ‘Former Friend Fucker’ Madej.”

“Former?”

Shane smiles miserably again, trying to be reassuring, but knowing he’s failing. “I’m not going to make you keep risking it, now that I know everything. It sounds like this weird sex-fugue state only happens around me, so I’ll just… I don’t know, scram. Make myself scarce. I don’t want to compromise Unsolved when it means so much to you, but we can be professionals about it. I’ve been sending out some feelers since the layoffs anyway, I can ramp that up, get out of your hair entirely. If you want, I can stay on until you find a new co-host, and obviously I can be the one who comes up with a reason for why I’m leaving the team…”

Ryan is staring at him, mouth hanging slightly open until he finds his voice to interrupt, “Why would I need a new co-host?”

Shane stares back, speaking slowly as if he’s explaining some detailed historical fact. “You’re gonna want a host you can banter with, someone you’ll be comfortable with. Maybe Andrew would come back for the full vids, not just Post Mortem. I know most of his time is in Worth It, but an established personality would be easier. Re-branding this late might be hard but I’ll do all I can to make it easier on you, so that I can leave without it being catastrophic-”

“I don’t want you to leave!” Ryan interrupts again, a slight hint of something almost desperate in his voice. He’s on his feet, standing, without seeming to realize it. He makes a face and backtracks, sitting down again, but closer this time. “I mean, if you want to, of course you can, if it’s all too weird and you can’t bear to look at the face that did this to you, then yeah, you can leave but… you don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

Shane takes a shuddering breath. “I don’t know that I could bear it. I don’t know that I really have a choice if I’m going to be staring at someone who hates me for however long they let us keep this up.”

Ryan stares. “I’m so confused, Shane. Why do you think I hate you?”

“Wh- why? Why would you hate me?” Shane sputters. “How could you not? I - I fucking _ took advantage _ of your body, repeatedly, living out my own goddamn horny fantasies instead of having a shread of decency and, you know, _ not _ fucking my best friend. No matter who was in control.” He falls forward, face in his hands again, trying to block this all out, trying to hide the tears he feels threatening to fall. He’s not going to make Ryan feel like he needs to _ comfort _ him, not on top of everything. 

“I don’t hate you,” Ryan says quietly. “I don’t think I could even if I wanted to. If anything, you should hate _ me. _ I knew, too, remember? I didn’t let on that I knew, I just let you suffer, thinking it was all one-sided. I didn’t try to stay away to keep _ him _from coming out. I was just as bad.”

Shane raises his head barely an inch, fixated on one detail only. “One-sided?”

Ryan rubs his neck again. Shane internally curses at how distracting his arms are.

“I- I let you believe this was all just you and Ric- and _ him. _ That I didn’t know. That I was uninvolved.”

“But it wasn’t?” Shane asks hesitantly.

“No, it wasn’t,” Ryan says with a shaky laugh. “I… I could have looked away. But I didn’t. I didn’t want to.”

Shane is openly staring at Ryan now, not fully comprehending. “You watched?”

Ryan nods slowly, cheeks going pink again.

“You wanted to watch _that__?” _

Another nod.

“And you didn’t care that it was me?”

Ryan huffs a laugh out. “Oh, I cared alright.” He makes eye contact finally, and smiles weakly at Shane’s continued lack of understanding. “It was a feature. The main highlight, you might say. The starring role.”

Shane gapes. “You-?”

“Me.”

“But - _ me?” _

“Yes, _ you,” _ Ryan retorts, and he’s smiling more normally now, that fond look he gets when Shane goes off on a bit or makes a pun he can’t resist laughing at.

“How long have you-?”

“I hadn’t… thought of you _ this _ way a lot, before this,” Ryan admits, gesturing vaguely at them both. “I might have, uh. Had a dream or two. I mostly just _really_ liked you as an sort-of ambiguous crush or close friendship. Gun to my head, I would have admitted out loud that you were an attractive dude, but I wasn’t like, restraining myself from jumping your bones when we shared a room. Besides the fact that we only sleep close to each other in haunted houses.”

Shane can’t help but crack a smile at that. “What, the ghouls don’t get you in the mood for smoochin’? Demons don’t inspire you to buy a one-way ticket to pound town?”

“Pound town?” Ryan wheezes. “Really?”

“All aboard the Madej Express, First Class with service to pound town!” Shane cackles, insides warming at Ryan’s familiar laugh. “Ask your conductor for a free ghost tour to go along with your bonin’!”

Ryan snickers, grabbing Shane’s wrist as he rocks back with laughter. Shane starts a little at the contact but is too happy to have _ this, _the banter, the feeling of normalcy, this sign that maybe, just maybe, everything isn’t ruined forever.

Ryan calms down, still smiling, but doesn’t let go of Shane’s wrist. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“How long have you found me attractive?” Ryan asks, and the cockiness he’s going for would work much better if he wasn’t bouncing his leg a bit in nerves.

“How long have we known each other?”

Ryan raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

“I’ve got _ eyes,” _ Shane says with a smile. “I wouldn’t have needed a gun to my head to point out something that objectively true. I’m a man of science, I believe in empirical observations.”

He notes with interest that Ryan seems to flush a little from the direct praise as he clarifies, “I mean like. The other part. The, uh. Lusting part.”

Shane waggles his eyebrows. “How long have I wanted to give you an all-inclusive voucher for a trip to-”

“Yes, yes, great bit, just answer the question.”

He pauses, thinking. “I think it was New Orleans. We were out dancing, flinging beads to the street, and I was just drunk enough to think ‘this man could be the death of me and I’d thank him for it.’ I also may have grabbed your ass. My memory is a little fuzzy on the particulars.”

Ryan starts a bit, and laughs. “You too? That was when I first, uh, realized, as well.” He’s still holding Shane’s wrist, and rubs his thumb up and down in an intriguing and somewhat distracting way.

Shane frowns. “Actually, no, it was earlier than that.” He realizes what he’s thinking of and chuckles. “Ohh, you’re gonna hate the real answer.”

Ryan narrows his eyes. “Why am I gonna hate it?”

Shane grins and meets Ryan’s gaze. “It was Sallie House.”

Ryan’s eyes go wide. “You’re shitting me.”

“I’m not, swear to god.”

“What about that horrible, terrible place made you-?”

Shane shrugs. “It was the first time I really saw you lose your shit and actually get like, _ angry _with me for not being scared. Can’t really explain it, that just feels like where we really started. This whole weird journey of a show and friendship.”

“Oh my god, were you not joking, do demons get you _ wound up?” _Ryan asks incredulously.

“Yeah, nothing gets my blood pumpin’ like empty basements,” Shane responds with a grin. “Those empty silences and ‘suspicious’ sounds like wind and drafts just gets me achin’ for it. When flashlights turn off, I get turned on.”

“I hate you so much.”

“And yet, by your own admission, you don’t.”

“Don’t push it, big guy, that could change.”

“Will it?” Shane asks without thinking.

Ryan looks over. “Will what?”

Shane hesitates a second, but pushes forward. “Will it change? I know that everything has changed, now, but will that part change too?”

Ryan pauses to consider. “I don’t know. It’s possible, that us both knowing will make it… different. But I don’t think it’ll make it go away.”

“Oh,” is all Shane can come up with to respond, but warmth spreads in his belly all the same. It’s a dangerous warmth, one that makes him think of trying to embrace a woodstove. It’s practically guaranteed to end up badly. But that’s somehow not enough to dissuade him.

“What about you?” Ryan asks. “Do you think it’ll change for you?”

“No,” Shane responds without hesitation, and that makes Ryan blush in a way that feels _ very _ nice.

Ryan nods rather decisively. “In that case, I have a suggestion.” 

Shane arches an eyebrow rather than respond aloud, because he doesn’t want it to be quite so obvious that he has absolutely no idea what should or will happen from here. He feels like a dog that’s finally caught the car. He had no idea he’d get this far without it becoming an utter disaster.

He’s not sure that won’t still happen when Ryan completes his thought with, “I think we should sleep together. Like, now.”

Shane’s brain halts entirely, a train thrown off the tracks, until he croaks out, “You’re insane.”

“With that kinda game, no wonder it took a sex-fugue for you to finally get some,” Ryan says, rolling his eyes.

“How would that help?!” Shane asks, utterly bewildered.

Ryan shrugs. “I mean. _ I _ haven’t gotten to be part of this yet. Not as a direct participant. And I think I’d like to. If nothing else, I want to find out if it’s a real, organic attraction or just because of, ah, the other guy.”

Shane has a sinking feeling that Ryan is starting to make sense. That’s dangerous, because he needs an embarrassingly small amount of encouragement to go through with this metaphorical leap off the edge of the normalcy cliff. Yes, they’re currently clinging to a rapidly-eroding overhang, but he’d sort of planned to just let fate take him, not to actively seek death.

“What if it’s not?” he asks, pulling out the one sensible thought from the frantic haze.

“It won’t be that much weirder than it already is, right? We’ll just know that there’s _ one _ instance in this weird shared history that was fully intentional.”

Fuck, that’s a good point. But Shane has a much more pressing concern. “And what if it… is?”

Ryan flushes again, and it’s vulnerable in such a new and different way that it is _ very _attractive. Shane tries to shift subtly so that his suddenly-interested cock isn’t quite so noticeable.

“If it’s a real attraction… I mean, that would be good to know, right? We could… talk about it. See where we think it could go. If you want,” Ryan replies. He’s not making eye contact, but it seems less due to discomfort and more uncertainty.

“I- talking about it would probably be good. If it’s relevant.”

Ryan nods. “So, do you want to?”

“What, talk? Aren’t we already?”

“No, the first part. The finding-out-if-it’s-real part.”

Shane immediately feels his face get hot. “Are you sure?”

Ryan’s blushing too, but it doesn’t stop him from replying, “Yeah, I am.”

“Do- I don’t know what dynamic you want, I know that the one with him was very distinctive.”

“I know,” Ryan says. He licks his lips, seemingly without thinking about it, as he adds, “I liked it. A lot.”

Shane’s body reacts viscerally, his half-hard cock immediately discovering the other half. Ryan looks down and notices. He smirks, and it could look like Ricky again, but it’s all his own, a little self-consciousness mixed with the smugness.

“Let’s continue this in the bedroom, shall we?” Ryan says, but phrases it with just enough iron that it’s not a request. Shane can’t get to his feet fast enough.

* * *

He leads them back to the bedroom, very grateful that he changed the sheets during the panicked aftermath of that morning. He’s not sure how to start, but his question is answered as Ryan pushes him up against the wall. Despite their height difference, Ryan’s got him easily beat on the muscle front, trapping him easily with arms on either side. 

Ryan’s gaze drags along his body, and he swears he can feel its touch. He can’t remember the last time someone looked at him like this, in appreciation and arousal, with not a shred of possession or judgment. 

“Fuck,” Ryan murmurs. “You’re so _ hot. _Do you know what it’s been like, watching you without being able to touch you myself?”

“You can touch now,” Shane replies, and he’s not sure if it’s a reassurance or a plea, but Ryan grants it all the same, pulling his head down slightly to capture his lips. Shane kisses back eagerly, trying to memorize the feel of Ryan’s lips, warm and soft. He kisses like he does everything - once he’s decided to go through with it, he gives it all he has. No holds barred, no quarter given. When he slides his tongue out, Shane immediately opens his mouth to him, leaning down further to deepen the kiss. His mouth is slick and hot and Shane wants to memorize the taste and keep it in his pocket forever. He tries an experimental bite at the corner of his mouth and is rewarded by what sounds like a swallowed moan, followed by even more enthusiastic kissing.

Ryan pulls back at length, breathing a little heavily. “Not back for a first kiss, Madej,” he teases. Shane laughs and immediately pulls him back for a second.

This time, when Ryan breaks off, he steps back and tugs Shane by the shirt to follow him. “I want you on the bed,” he says firmly. Shane complies, tossing himself on and bouncing slightly. It surprises a laugh out of Ryan, one that continues as he turns face-up and winks. A line of tension Shane hadn’t noticed melts out of Ryan’s shoulders, and he follows him to the bed, crawling up on his hands and knees and bracing himself over him.

“Any requests?” Ryan asks with a grin.

Shane’s about to decline, but a thought hits him. “I know you said you liked watching the dynamic with him, but could you not call me ‘toy’?”

“Of course. Anything else to avoid?”

Shane shakes his head.

“Good. Lose the shirt.”

Shane starts a bit. It’s not as cold as Ricky was, but Ryan’s voice has definitely just gained an iron tone to it. He stares up, eyes wide, cock twitching in his baggy sweatpants. Ryan just raises an eyebrow at him, and he obediently tugs his sweatshirt off. He reaches out for the hem of Ryan’s button-down hesitantly, but when he’s not stopped, he can’t resist the urge to undo his buttons slowly, from the neck down, revealing more of Ryan’s muscles as he goes.

“Ry, have I mentioned you’re _ hot.” _

Ryan grins as he pulls his shirt entirely off. “No, but the staring gave me a hint. Get those pants off, too.”

It’s so matter-of-fact, but still orders. It’s nothing like Shane imagined in any of his fantasies or wet dreams. He loves it. He shucks the loose pants, ending up naked on the bed in front of Ryan for the second time that day. But this time, Ryan’s staring at him with unabashed desire, lingering on where his exposed cock is fully hard under his gaze. 

“God, what a _ view,” _ he murmurs, almost to himself. He looks up to meet Shane’s gaze. “I’ve had to watch without touching too long. Now that it’s my turn, I am going to _ devour _ you.”

Shane’s entire body reacts to that, a shiver running down his spine that trembles right into his twitching cock. “Please,” he whispers, both because it feels right and because he’s worried Ryan might need the encouragement. 

Ryan crawls half on top of him to kiss him again, pressing their hips together and letting Shane grind against the rough material of his jeans. He starts planting kisses down through Shane’s stubble, down his neck, teasing down his torso. Shane gasps softly, surprised by how gentle and almost ticklish it feels. Ryan looks up from somewhere around his stomach and makes eye contact.

“Keep doing that,” Shane asks. “Please.”

“Doing what?”

“Looking at me,” Shane whispers. “Your eyes were the first thing to change. I want to remember this is you, now, not anyone else.”

Ryan cracks a small, sweet smile, and moves back up in one movement to kiss Shane again, softly this time. “Anything you want, big guy. I’ve got you.”

He moves down again, kissing more wetly now, tracing down Shane’s hip bones, staring at him all the while. It’s- fuck, it’s hot enough that Shane is suddenly worried about how long he’s going to last, despite already coming once that day.

Ryan shifts down further, kissing down Shane’s muscled thighs, inching closer and closer and if Shane didn’t really enjoy the part where Ryan’s in control, he would _ absolutely _pull that teasing mouth onto his cock. He’s leaking precome and twitching every time Ryan’s hot breath gets close and he knows Ryan is very aware of both those facts, because he’s still maintaining eye contact and smirking just the slightest bit as he goes.

Ryan ghosts over his cock, letting his mouth get so close he can feel the heat, could almost thrust right in if he’d let him. Shane is going to absolutely lose his mind, and he’s barely been touched yet.

“Fuck, Ry,” he gasps out. _ “Please.” _

“Hmm?” Ryan hums innocently, letting a hot breath escape right over his head.

“Please, stop teasing, just-”

“Just what, Shane?”

“Swear to god, if you don’t put my dick in your mouth in the next 10 seconds-” and then Ryan swallows his head and words lose any and all appeal.

Despite the strange sexual buffet that’s become his life these last few months, this is the first blowjob Shane’s received in over a year and _ fuck, _he’d forgotten how good they feel. The suction, the heat, the wetness, and best of all, Ryan’s teasing tongue, flicking over the slit and dragging down the shaft. Shane’s eyes keep threatening to flutter closed, but he resists, wanting to watch every moment, seeing Ryan’s lips stretch obscenely widely as he takes in all of him.

Ryan’s eyes also close briefly, in concentration, but then his nose is practically bumping Shane’s pubic bone and he looks up again, holding Shane’s gaze as his tongue wraps around the very base and Shane is dying, he is dead, he is ascending to heaven or is already in hell and there’s nowhere else he’d rather be. Maybe he’s a ghost already, and Ryan’s about to be proven right. At this moment, Shane’s alright with that idea. It would make Ryan happy. And that matters more than any other thoughts he could possibly conjure. He moans, low and deep, and his hips twitch with the effort of not thrusting into Ryan’s throat.

Then Ryan’s pulling off him with a slight pop. “Okay, big guy, this is how this is going down. I’ll keep going here, but you need to remember two very important things.”

Shane nods eagerly, ready for anything as long as that mouth gets wrapped back around his cock in short order.

“One: you tell me if you want me to change anything, for any reason. And two,” he says, eyes glinting with promise, “you don’t come until I say you do.”

Shane swallows audibly. _ Oh. _ He likes this side of Ryan. _ Boy howdy _does he like it. He nods his assent eagerly. “I- yes, yeah, sounds-”

Ryan apparently decides that’s enough talking and swallows his cock down to the base once more. Shane groans again, reaching down for Ryan. He’s not sure where to put his hands but he wants to be touching him, somehow. Ryan looks up, continuing eye contact without stopping his up-and-down movements, and guides Shane’s hand to his hair. It’s silky and soft, all its normal product washed out. Shane twines his fingers through it, discovering yet another thing he’s apparently been wanting to do for years and hadn’t even found the words for yet. And Ryan just gave it to him without a second thought.

Ryan works him with delicious precision, bringing his hand to fist along the lower shaft as he concentrates on the head, and Shane can feel the pressure starting to build. He’s babbling through the gasps of pleasure, haphazard words that consist mostly of “yes,” “fuck,” “please,” and “Ryan.” But he remembers Ryan’s order, and lightly nudges Ryan’s head up as he starts to get close.

“If you keep doing that, I’m not going to be able to wait for you to tell me when,” he admits. “Can I return the favor?”

Ryan withdraws, but keeps one hand wrapped around Shane’s dick, slowly dragging it up and down as he shrugs. “You can if you want. But I’d rather fuck you.”

Shane can feel his eyes blowing wide as his cheeks heat up. “Yeah, that’d be- please?”

Ryan grins, and releases him. “Do you want to lie on your back, or hands and knees?”

Shane answers by grabbing a pillows slipping it under his hips, angling himself up for better access, still keeping eye contact.

Ryan leans forward to kiss him, starting closed-mouth for only a second before turning slick and demanding. His fingers tangle in Shane’s mess of hair, tugging gently to get a better angle as Shane kisses back enthusiastically. He cards his long fingers into Ryan’s hair again, delighting in the feel without trying to move him. 

At length, Ryan breaks off, and leans off the bed to grab the lube. He sits on his knees, staring down at Shane, and flushes ever so lightly.

“So, uh, I’m gonna need you to give me a lot of feedback here. I’ve never actually done this with someone else.”

Shane stares up, a little shocked. “You haven’t? But that blowjob was _ phenomenal, _are you just naturally that good?”

Ryan rolls his eyes. “I’ve done _ that _ before. I’ve just never actually gone all the way with any sort of anal.”

Shane winces. “Does that mean, when you were watching…?”

Ryan reaches out and rubs Shane’s thigh with a steady hand. “Hey, it’s okay. Yeah, that was technically the first time this body had done any of that, but I wasn’t really _ experiencing _it. Not like I plan to right now. And plus, who else gets to say they’ve watched perfectly personalized porn?”

“You sure it’s okay?”

“Yeah, promise. Now lie back, and let me take care of you. I know the theory, but feel free to critique the technique.”

“Oh yeah, baby, talk constructive criticism to me. Fill me up with that sweet, sweet peer review,” Shane quips, waggling his hips and eyebrows simultaneously. It earns him one of Ryan’s signature wheezing laughs, just like he’d hoped, and his chest warms just a bit more.

“You’re so fucking dumb,” Ryan says fondly, and leans down to plant a kiss on his thigh before straightening with purpose. Clicking the lube bottle open, Ryan slicks up two fingers and waits for Shane to make eye contact again before slipping one down to circle his entrance. “Remember, tell me if I’m moving too fast or hard or anything,” he instructs. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I know. I will,” Shane murmurs, watching with rapt attention. It should feel like teasing, with Ryan moving this slowly, but all he feels is an overwhelming sense of _ rightness _and anticipation.

When Ryan slides the first finger in, stopping before the first knuckle, Shane almost whimpers. “Yeah, Ry, that’s good, you can go more,” he says breathily.

“You sure?” Ryan asks cautiously.

“You may have forgotten, but I was _ thoroughly _ opened up earlier today,” Shane shoots back. 

Ryan’s eyes go a bit darker as he licks his lips. “Oh, don’t worry, I _ remember,” _ he responds. “But that means less prep?”

“Yeah, it’s a perk. I’m just a big ol’ Pringle can.”

Ryan frowns. “Pringle can?”

Shane’s eyebrows dance as he replies, “Once you pop, you can’t stop.”

“Oh my god, I’ll never be able to eat them without thinking of this now. I hate you so much,” Ryan groans, but he adds another slick finger anyway.

“Why’s that a problem, you not enjoying yourself?” Shane asks. His tone is even and joking, and he hopes Ryan won’t pick up on the earnest need for an answer just underneath the surface.

Ryan grins, seeing right through him, and leans down to kiss him softly. “Oh, don’t worry, I am,” he says reassuringly. “I’ll just be trying to eat Pringles and get hard out of nowhere, picturing this, and people will start thinking I have a chip fetish.”

“I don’t kinkshame,” Shane says solemnly. “If you want to get creative with some Cool Ranch Doritos, I’ll go along with it.”

Ryan smirks at that. “That’s because you’ll go along with anything I tell you, though, isn’t that right?”

Shane’s about to object, but Ryan starts twisting his fingers experimentally and manages to hit his prostate and his words turn into a soft moan. 

“Oh, _ that’s _ how you do that,” Ryan comments with a sense of awe. He immediately tries the movement again, concentrating hard to find the exact spot. It takes him two more attempts to get it perfectly, but then Shane shudders under him and he grins in triumph.

“You’re doing _ great,” _ Shane says with feeling, still gasping at every movement. “I- fuck, it feels _ so good, _just press out a bit, on the walls, and I’ll be good to go.”

“What if I just want to keep doing this?” Ryan asks innocently as he brings up his other lubed hand to grab Shane’s cock. He pumps his hand and fingers in tandem in a back-and-forth rhythm that quickly has Shane squirming underneath him.

“Not fair,” Shane gasps. “Fuck, that’s too good, I’m not gonna be able to last-”

“Yes you will,” Ryan interrupts. “Because I haven’t given you permission yet.”

There’s that hint of iron again. Shane would have sworn a moment ago that he couldn’t possibly get any harder, but Ryan’s just proved him wrong. His cock is straining in Ryan’s grip, leaking and twitching as the slide of fingers inside him send jolts right up to the pressure around him.

“Ry, _ please,” _he whines. “I really can’t, feels too good, I’m gonna-”

Just like that, all the sensation stops on a dime. Ryan’s hand is gone, and Shane’s left clenching around nothing, still gasping for air.

Ryan’s gaze drags up and down as he finally removes his jeans. Shane stares back hungrily, now that he finally has proper permission. His eyes catch on Ryan’s exposed abs and drag down to that taut waist, along those gorgeous thighs and back. He can’t help but be drawn to stare at his cock, thick and leaking. He knows, intellectually, that he already knows what it feels like inside him, but now it’ll be more than just Ryan’s cock. It’ll be _ Ryan. _

Ryan closes his eyes as he lubes himself up, rubbing slower than he needs to in long, languid movements, and Shane is absolutely going to lose it.

_ “Fuck, _ Ry,” he breathes, and it comes out as a moan. _ “Please.” _

One eye cracks open. “Please what?”

“Need you. Now. Please?”

The smirk is back as he opens both eyes to lock eyes with Shane once more. He shifts closer and teases his head against Shane’s opening, smearing lube without entering. “Yeah? You need this?”

_ “Ryan, _fuck, yes, please,” Shane groans, trying to grind down into him. “Don’t make me beg, please, just need it.”

“Are you saying you wouldn’t beg?” Ryan asks, one eyebrow raised.

Shane colors. “You know I would.” He grinds his hips down again fruitlessly.

Ryan grins. “I know. I just wanted to make sure you knew, too.” Without more preamble, he lines up and pushes in slowly.

Shane starts to swear but it’s choked off as more and more of Ryan fills him. He’s moving just slowly enough to not burn, but just quick enough that Shane can’t adjust enough to do anything but lie back, gasping. Finally, he bottoms out and looks down into Shane’s blissed-out eyes. “Let me know when you’re good,” he says softly. 

Shane’s only response is to pull him down into a kiss. It’s messy and wet and Shane hopes that somehow, it can come close to telling Ryan just how good he is, how good they are. How good he hopes they can continue to be. He doesn’t have the words yet, nor the courage, but maybe Ryan will pick up on the gist of it for now.

He realizes that Ryan’s still waiting for the go ahead and nods.

Ryan moves slowly, forehead pursed in concentration as he resists the urge to get carried away. He pulls nearly all the way out, then slides home again, letting out a low, drawn out “Fuuuuck. Shane, god, you feel so good.”

“You feel amazing, Ry,” Shane whispers back. “Please, you can go for it. Fuck me.”

Ryan’s pupils blow wide open as he lets loose, snapping his hips in and out. It’s clear he’s not experienced, but he makes up for it in enthusiasm. And when he finds his way into Shane’s prostate again, surprising a loud “Fuck!” out of him, he grins and goes after it again with a dogged energy.

Shane’s embarrassed by how quickly he feels his orgasm rising. He’s fairly confident he could come untouched, as long as Ryan keeps moving like that and looking at him like that.

“Ry?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I-?”

Ryan responds by shifting, gripping one hip in his left hand and Shane’s cock in his right. “Yeah, c’mon, want you to come for me.” His breaths are a little erratic, and it’s clear he’s close too. He almost loses the rhythm multiple times but keeps moving, swearing and gasping on each breath. 

The pressure is building and Shane is getting light-headed. He’s seconds away when Ryan hisses, “Tell me you know. Gotta hear you say who’s making you feel this way.”

_ “Ryan,” _ he moans back, gasping and desperate, forcing his eyes to stay open to lock with Ryan’s. “Ryan Bergara, it’s you and only you and _ -ahhh, fuck, yess!” _

As he speaks, Ryan slams into him with a groan, coming hard and shuddering violently. It’s enough to send Shane over the edge too, painting his own belly white.

Ryan falls forward, collapsing on top of Shane’s chest, breathing heavily. _ “Fuck,” _ he gets out, when he can do more than wheeze. “That was…”

“It really was,” Shane responds contentedly. 

Ryan closes his eyes and nuzzles into Shane’s neck. “I’m gonna fall asleep here now.”

Shane’s laughter shakes them both. “Please don’t, we’re both a mess and also you’re still inside me.”

“You complaining?”

“If you have a wet dream it might actually ruin me. And I don’t want all this to start drying.”

“Fineee,” Ryan concedes, and levers himself up with a dramatic groan. He pulls out, and looks down at the come smeared across his chest. “Oh. Ew. Is it always this messy?”

Shane chuckles. “Only sometimes. Less so for you as the top, usually.” He gets up gingerly and stretches. “Oh, yeah, gonna be feeling this until Monday at least.” Turning, he looks at where Ryan’s collapsed on his back, arm across his eyes and hair sticking out in every direction. With a smile, he fetches some washcloths and runs them under warm water. He brings them back and nudges Ryan into cleaning himself up. Except for a couple of lube spots, the sheets are mostly clean, which is good because all Shane wants now is to collapse next to Ryan.

It takes some shifting, but soon they’re a tangle of limbs facing each other. Shane sighs happily and wriggles a bit into the pillow.

“It was good for you, too, right?” Ryan asks. “Because uh. Yeah, that was amazing. I had no idea it could feel that good.”

“It was more than just _ good,” _ Shane replies, stretching to kiss Ryan’s neck. “That was _ excellent. _ Some real grade-A fuckin’.”

Ryan wheezes in laughter. “Yeah? Am I FDA certified?”

“100% genuine porking,” Shane shoots back, laughing too. “Dare I say, even some _ bone-in _steak.”

“That was _ terrible,” _Ryan says, but he’s laughing all the same. He runs a hand through Shane’s hair, already made a fluffy mess. His gaze turns thoughtful. “I know I’m new at this, though, so it was probably worse than what you’ve had before. Worse than he was.”

“Shut that beautiful, incredibly-talented mouth,” Shane admonishes. “God, no, this was so much better.”

“How is that possible, I barely know what I’m doing.”

“Because it’s _ you, _and you care. You don’t half-ass anything, ever.”

Ryan grins. “So I whole-assed fucking you. In the ass.”

Shane wheezes. “_ Yeah _ you did.”

Their laughs quiet into a comfortable silence, arms draped over each other.

“So, not to ruin the moment, but,” Shane starts after some minutes pass. “It feels like we’ve gotta address the sex fugues. What do we do if they keep happening?”

Ryan blushes. “I don’t think they will?”

Shane looks over, partly because he doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of the visual that is Ryan in his bed, disheveled and glistening, with his face turning that wonderful shade of pink. Despite having come twice already this morning, he’s fairly confident this view could get him ready to go for a third. But he’s partly suspicious, too.

“Ryan, do you know something about this you’re not telling me? Some critical detail on top of the fact that you’ve been watching?”

Ryan covers his face with his hands briefly, then lets them drop. “Okay, just to preface this: if you weren’t such a damn skeptic I would have said something sooner.”

“Ry, this is starting to sound like another Atlantis abduction. If you say that aliens made you a dom I will never sleep with you again.”

Ryan immediately smirks and rolls on top of Shane, lining up their hips again. “That’s a lie.”

Shane grabs Ryan’s hips to hold him still, still amazed that this is a thing he can do now. “It may be a lie, but do you really want to take that risk?”

“I like my chances.”

“Cocky bastard.”

“Damn straight.”

“Nothing about this is straight,” Shane points out with a grin.

Ryan rolls his eyes, like he does at all of Shane’s puns and jokes, but leans forward to kiss him in the same movement. A warmth that’s quickly becoming familiar spreads through him again as he realizes that Ryan’s been wanting to do both at once for a while. He kisses back eagerly, nipping Ryan’s lip.

Ryan sighs happily into Shane’s mouth, but pushes himself back up. “Did you want to hear the full story or not?”

“You could always tell me later,” Shane points out helpfully, trying to pull Ryan back down.

_ “Shane,” _ he groans. “I mean it.”

“I do too. This is fun, I’m having fun. Aren’t you having fun?”

“I liked it better when you were following my orders,” Ryan grumbles. 

“I’ve been told I have a smart mouth, it’s true. You should shut me up again,” Shane offers with a wink.

Ryan hesitates, and Shane grinds up into him, trying to tempt him. But he makes up his mind and rolls off of him instead. “I’m going to, later,” he promises. “But first, this.”

Shane considers trying to distract him more, but decides against it. He turns on his side to get a better look at him, pulling up the sheet to cover them both. It doesn’t do a lot to stop him from being distracted, not when Ryan’s arm muscles are still on full, glorious display, but it’s something. He leans on his arm, letting his gaze fall on Ryan’s face. Ryan, fully naked under his sheets, in his bed, in the tail-end of the glow from an orgasm he helped cause. He’s not fully convinced it’s real.

“So what happened was- what?” Ryan asks, making eye contact and immediately blushing.

“What do you mean, what?”

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Because I’m apparently the luckiest bastard you’ve ever met, and if this is some weird Inception-style multi-layer fugue, I want to get in all the starin’ that I can before you wake up a second time,” he admits frankly. “Either that or my subconscious is _ really _ trying to fuck with me in the detail of this wet dream.”

Ryan flinches. It’s slight, but just noticeable enough. 

“Dammit, did I incept myself? Are you a literal daydream?”

“Not unless I’m dreaming too,” Ryan says. “No, it’s um. Your subconscious. It, uh. Was. Doing that. Fucking with you. Kind of, literally?”

“Ry, buddy, gonna need a whole heck of a lot more detail on that.”

Ryan flushes again. “So, um. Remember that I said New Orleans was, uh, when I realized I found you attractive?”

“Yesss,” Shane says slowly, unable to guess where this is going.

“I was very sure you didn’t feel the same and was having all sorts of confusing feelings-”

“Confusing _ pants _ feelings?” 

“Shut up, no. Just a bit of an orientation crisis.”

“Sounds like pants feelings to me.”

“I hate you so much.” Seeing Shane’s mouth open to point out that no, he doesn’t, Ryan quickly continues, cutting him off. “So anyway, when you were in the next room, I asked Bloody Mary for a ritual to help with one-sided feelings. And she just _ smiled _ at me, like she knew everything, and gave me this cordial and a box of powder and promised to send instructions when I was ‘somewhere more private’.”

Shane raises an eyebrow. “You asked voodoo spirits. To figure out if you were gay.”

“No!”

“Oh, so you asked the spirits to help you get to bone town with me?”

“Oh my god, fuck you.”

“With pleasure.”

“I literally hate everything about you.”

Shane leans over and kisses Ryan then, right in the middle of his exasperated smile, and it tastes exactly how he’s always hoped it would. Ryan pulls him in to deepen the kiss for a moment before pushing him back.

“You’re so bad at letting me tell this story. _ Anyway, _the instructions were about figuring out what you want in attraction and love and lust and stuff. But, uh,” he rubs his nose. “I think I fucked the instructions up.”

Shane leans back with a groan. “Oh my god. Not only am I listening to your bona fide belief that a voodoo spell got us here, it was a voodoo spell _ gone wrong?” _

“Yes?”

“How can you mess up imagination?!”

“You’re supposed to add objects to focus the ritual, and I guess I was supposed to only add things of mine, to figure out what _ I _ wanted. But instead I was trying to figure out what _ you _ wanted. And how I could, uh, be that.”

Shane groans. “Ryan, you do realize this is the single most possibly-compelling piece of evidence you’ve ever acquired, and it’s you using voodoo spirits like a middle school gossip mill? ‘Ooh, does he like me or _ like _ like me?’ ‘All signs point towards spooks, Ryan, better possess you with a dom just to be sure!’”

“Why does your voodoo spirit sound like a Scooby Doo villain?”

“Cause we could have avoided all of this, if it weren’t for your meddling dumb ass.”

“Hey!” Ryan squawks, and Shane amends.

“Sorry, dumb-but-very-hot ass. Seriously. Very hot. Right up there with your arms for my favorite things about your body. Also other things. I can list them, if you like.”

“Shut up,” Ryan mutters, but he looks a little pleased all the same. “So, yeah. I fucked up the ritual. I didn’t actually do it until the end of the summer because I got cold feet, but during this True Crime season we’d just been together so much and it was driving me nuts, and I was desperate, and… I guess it latched on to, uh, Ricky, somehow.”

“And this was to find out what I wanted?”

“Yeah, especially for, uh, unconscious desires,” Ryan admits, still blushing.

“So it was my subconscious?” Shane muses. “My subconscious wanted you, and wanted you to fuck me, and to have you be tough and dominant and bossing me around and oh wait yes, yeah, checks out.”

Ryan grins. “I wouldn’t have guessed it before, but now that I _ know _ it’s your kink it seems kinda obvious.”

Shane elbows him halfheartedly. “You’re dodging the real question here.”

“Which is?”

“If you’re so sure that this whole thing has been _ magic-” _

“You don’t believe it, even with all this evidence?” Ryan squawks again.

“Shush, honeycheeks, I’m making a point, and also, actual fugues and subconscious actions exist. But if you’re so sure you know there's a supernatural cause, why did it last this long? Why didn’t you do the ‘counterspell’ or whatever and end it?”

Ryan, who had looked ready to keep fighting his point a moment ago, falls silent. His gaze shifts away, above Shane’s head, not looking directly at him. 

Shane waits, patiently. He can practically see the gears in Ryan’s head whirring on overdrive as he tries to pick an answer and the correct phrasing of that answer, finagling words around to try to combat his anxiety about it.

“I couldn’t tell if you, uh, liked that it was _ me, _technically, or if it was just the… treatment,” he says finally. “And… if you wanted that, wanted what Ricky did and how he acted… I didn’t think I could be that. He’s so unlike me, I thought I could never be what you subconsciously wanted, so I just… let it go on.”

Shane softens. “Ry, I hope you know how untrue that is. The dominance is _ great _ and very, very hot, but… that’s not why I never safe-worded out.” He reaches over and cups Ryan’s face softly, his hands feeling so disproportionately large but fitting perfectly all the same. “I kept going because I thought it would be the only way I’d ever get you. I was settling, because I didn’t think I would ever get to have _ this.” _

Ryan smiles, and turns his head to kiss Shane’s palm. “You’re kind of a sap, you know that?”

Shane just grins in response. “I’m so sappy, I’m practically a tree. Better tap my ass, just to confirm.”

“Been there, done that, tree-ness confirmed. You’re basically Groot. But with more words. Unfortunately.”

Shane sniffs, withdrawing his hand. “I’m _ much _sexier than Groot.”

“Groot’s played by Vin Diesel, you sure about that?”

“Someone who’d like to continue his current streak of tapping had _ better _be sure.”

“Hmm, if I meet anyone who wants that, I’ll be sure to let him know,” Ryan says noncommittally.

“If that’s the case, can I start calling you ‘Hit It and Quit It’ as a nickname?”

“Absolutely not. Never say that again.”

“Awesome, can’t wait. ‘Hey TJ, my dear friend and colleague, could you call our mutual coworker ‘Hit It or Quit It’ Bergara to the set?’ ‘Ah, Steven Lim, my lifelong nemesis, how I look forward to another contest of wills between you and Andrew ‘Cold Steel’ Ilnckyj with myself and my partner-in-True-Crime, Ryan ‘Hit It or Quit It’ Bergara.’”

“I can’t believe you won’t shut up.”

Shane laughs, pleased with himself for earning another Bergara Eye Roll. His stomach is filled with a pleasant buzz of _ this is real, this is good, this is __Ryan_ and nothing can go wrong ever again.

“But, um, yeah, I want that,” Ryan says, a little uncertain.

“Want what?”

“To continue. With this.” He gestures at all of Shane, who can feel his cheeks immediately heat up. He turns, of course, to humor to block out his uncertainty.

“Yeah? Got a real Taste O’ The Madej and now you’re hooked?”

“Like you’re not?”

“Fair,” Shane concedes. “I suppose this can continue, then. To save you from embarrassment. And to preserve your honor.”

Ryan lies on his back, staring up at the ceiling. “I did this to myself. Why did I do this to myself? I could’ve picked a boyfriend who was _ not _ a sarcastic asshole, but no, I picked this tall drink of water who cannot shut up ever.”

Shane pulls him closer, planting kisses up his neck. “Say that again.”

“What, ‘asshole’?”

“‘Boyfriend’. I like that.”

Ryan smiles and kisses him directly on the lips. “Me too.”

**Post Script, later than night:**

“Hey Ry?”

“Yeah?”

“...do you think you could act like him even once you end your ‘spell’?”

“Oh, you wanna roleplay?”

“No!”

“So you _ don’t _ want me to put on the personality of Ricky Goldsworth to be cold and domineering and fuck you within an inch of your sanity?”

“...okay, fine, yes, I would like to roleplay. Occasionally. Not all the time. But sometimes”

“Yeah, I can do that. Now c'mere and kiss me again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all, thanks for reading! This has been a ton of fun to write, especially as my entry in BFU fic. Thank you so much to everyone who's commented or left kudos, I get lil warm fuzzies every time 💖


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